A Winter Night's Tale

I was lost. The snow-laden conifers looked the same no matter which way they looked. They surrounded me, smothering any hope of getting out of here before dark. My steps crunched on the snow, which deceived me into thinking it could bear my weight. With each step, my legs were buried in the snow up to my knees. I pushed my black hair out of my face and adjusted my hood. I kept moving forward, crunch after crunch. We called it post-holing- the act of stepping through deep snow and sinking in with every step.

My mind drifted. I thought of my cabin with a warm fire crackling and venison stew bubbling in the pot. I could almost smell the wood fire. I worried about my husband. We had been married for just a few months. Used to living on my own, I kept the duty of hunting and providing food for us, and I was good at it, except for today. My husband, Eric, skilled in woodcraft, built our cozy cabin and made it tight to withstand the brutal winter. I thought of the piles of furs and blankets that kept us warm. The cold air on my face was a cruel reminder of my current situation.

I promised I would be back in just a few hours. It was well over six hours. My hunting trip was a failure with only a brace of rabbits to show for it, and now I couldn’t find my way home. I adjusted my quiver and bow and steadied my mind. The moon should be rising soon, but alas, it was the new moon. Darkness would persist. A small lantern hung from my pack. I lit the wick with a scrape of flint and steel. The firelight gave me new hope and a resolve to get home. But with every brutal step, hope faded. Every step I took in the cracking snow was new. There was no trail, no markings, nothing to guide me. The trees surrounded me, trapping me in a branchy cage. I pulled the hood of my fur cloak closer around my neck. The soft wool shirt and britches kept me warm enough. My feet were not cold. I kept soldiering on.

Hours passed by, and I was still lost. I became exhausted. Every laborious breath was a puff of frozen mist in the bone-chilling cold. My mind descended into darkness. I started to consider death, how easy it would be to just lie down in the soft snow and go to an eternal sleep. No! I would not succumb to my mind’s weakness. Pine branches offered a suitable shelter. Flint and steel offered a way to make fire and warmth. I set the small lantern in the snow and began to build my fire.

Small wood shavings and a single spark created a tiny fire…a glimmer of hope in the smothering darkness. The small spark gave way to flames and, finally, to a proper fire. Somehow, the warmth and light of a fire give hope to the hopeless. Survival is in the mind, more than it is in physical ability. I warmed my hands and face. I took one rabbit and was about to skin it for eating when a snow-laden branch gave way, and snow plopped onto my fire, and all at once it was dark and cold again. The fire was gone, along with my hope. I was not one to give in to emotion, but warm tears welled up in my eyes. This was the end. I lay down in the snow. Images of my beloved husband floated before me. After a while, I suddenly felt warm and sleepy. I let the relief of sleep wash over me. This was it. Death. The end.

“Wake up, child,” a soft voice woke me. I opened my eyes slowly. I was drowsy and did not want to wake from my frozen sleep. Bright blue eyes stared at me from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. I rubbed my eyes. Was this real, or was it delirium from hypothermia? The man’s woolen clothes were red and green. His hood enclosed his face in warm fur, and his rosy cheeks were cheery and welcoming. I did not care if he was real or imaginary. I could feel his warm, sweet breath on my face, and I was overcome with a feeling of well-being. Maybe this is how it ends. I didn’t care, and I surrendered. He extended a mittened hand and helped me up from my snowy bower.

“Follow me, girl,” he said. He commanded. He wielded a great wooden staff that gave him stability as he walked through the deep snow. The man led me through the forest maze to a small cabin. The light shone from the windows, welcoming the lost. Finally, the darkness of exhaustion was overwhelming. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up tucked into a comfortable bed.

The firelight cast shadows around the room. I pulled the warm blankets up and snuggled into the soft bed. A lady crowned with golden braids and dressed in fine leather and furs sat beside the bed. “Drink this,” she offered me a mug of warm liquid. Carefully, I raised the mug to take a taste. The aroma of berries and herbs was inviting. I savored the wild flavor as I swallowed. My energy was returning, and I sat up, pushing the blankets aside. I did not remember how I actually got to this cozy cabin. My last memory was handing the blue-eyed man my pack. I could see the man bent over a cauldron hanging in the fireplace, stirring it carefully. He turned and looked at me with those same kind blue eyes. This time, I noticed a twinkle and a slight raise of his eyebrow. The smell of whatever was in the cauldron was overwhelming. Stew of some kind. I was famished.

The couple bade me sit at the table, and together we ate the stew, crusty bread, and more of the berry drink. I did not speak. I was inhaling my dinner like someone who was starved. The couple looked at each other and smiled. After dinner, the man lit a pipe and pulled out a tagleharpa and bow. He played and sang melancholy tunes in a language I did not understand. The clear tones in a minor scale floated in the air one after another as the bow glided across the strings. I realized that this music was very old, yet strangely familiar. My eyes became heavy, and I could feel myself drifting off in comfortable darkness. Was this death and the afterlife? I did not think so.

The woman looked at me with her beautiful face. A light seemed to surround her, like an aura. “Please, child, get some rest. You have had quite a day.”

I agreed and crawled back into bed. I was instantly asleep.

The next morning, the wind howled outside the tiny cabin. I peered out the window and could not see anything but frozen white. I wanted to continue my trek home. I knew my husband, Eric, would be very concerned. My heart hurt with empathy for how he must feel. I gathered up my gear and started putting on my boots when the lady stopped me.

“You must not leave,” she said, “the storm is too strong, and you will not find your way.”

I knew she was right, but I didn’t like it. However, I resolved to wait out the storm with these interesting yet mysterious. Now that I was rested, I began to notice my surroundings. Little pottery jars were neatly lined on shelves beside the fireplace, and dried herbs hung from the ceiling rafters. Furs were stretched on frames for tanning, and some were neatly folded and stacked. The intricately carved wooden table and chairs were adorned with candles that cast a warm light across the room. The smell of sweet herbs and leather permeated the air.

A heavy wooden door kept the storm out, and a string of bells cascaded from the handle. I started to wonder about my hosts. How did the man find me just at the right moment, and who was his beautiful wife? They never called each other by name. In fact, they really didn’t speak much at all. Even so, it was not awkward and felt welcome and comfortable.

One night, as we sat by the fire. I saw the man carving a small piece of wood. “Did you make all these beautiful things?” I asked.

“The winter is long here, and I pass the time by making this and that. It amuses me.”

He handed me a detailed carving of a raven. “Take this, he said, “I made it for you.”

I was amazed at the craftsmanship of the tiny bird. Each feather was detailed, and the raven’s eyes seemed to look at me. I thanked him and tucked it into my pocket.

Eight days passed, and the wind howled relentlessly as the blizzard raged on. The days passed with simplicity. Breakfast and coffee, spinning and weaving in the morning. Working the leather on the stretched hides in the afternoon, supper, and then music. Every day was the same, but it went by quickly. On the ninth day, the wind stopped. I was not prepared for the sudden silence. I was anxious to get started home, and I started collecting my gear to be ready to leave.

“No, child, you can’t leave yet, the snow is too deep,” said the lady. Her eyes sparkled like the snowflakes on the new drifts. “Stay with us a while longer. I promise we will help you find your way home.”

“My husband surely thinks I am dead by now,” I replied. “I need to go home.”

“Please stay,” she implored, holding my hand and staring into my eyes. “It is not safe for you to leave just yet.” Just then, I heard a scratching at the door. The woman rose and opened the door with jingly bells to reveal a very large black wolf. She gently patted his head. He shook the snow off his dense fur and entered the room. He looked at me with large yellow eyes and lay down by the fire. “There you are, my boy,” the woman said to the wolf. “I was wondering where you were.” She bent over his huge head and kissed him.

I wanted to leave, but I could not refuse her. I felt like I was under a spell. Perhaps I was. Days continued in the same way. I lost track of time. I was content and started to forget about the world outside. But deep inside, I was aware that something was not right, not in a nefarious way. I can only describe it as otherworldly. Deep in my consciousness, I knew these people were not human. I realized I could stay in this place until I was old and gray and be perfectly happy. I needed to get out, while I still remembered my life and Eric. Once I resolved to leave, my mind started to clear, and I began to formulate a plan. On the full moon, 2 days from today, I would leave while everyone was asleep.

The full moon arrived as always. We drank, ate, and sang until it was time for bed. I crawled into my bed to wait. It was hard to resist the comfort and drowsiness that tried to take over. When I was sure everyone was asleep, I grabbed my bundled gear and slowly exited the house. I quickly donned my coat and boots, slung my pack and bow over my shoulder, and hurried through the snow. The moonlight reflected off the sparkly snow, guiding me forward. I could see my breath in the air, surrounded by tiny snowflakes. I pulled my hood closer to my face. It seemed like hours, and I was still walking. I sat down to rest. Just a little rest. My eyes closed. Suddenly, I felt a wet tongue licking my hand. The great wolf had been following me. He lay down beside me and waited for me. “Come on, then,” I said to the wolf. I stood up and adjusted my load. The wolf walked ahead, looking back ever so often to see if I was following. His great, black, furry body was a stark contrast to the white snow.

For reasons I can’t describe, I followed that wolf, convinced he knew where I needed to go. We walked and walked. We trekked up the side of a steep hill that rose into a mountain. The trail became the ridge line, and still we continued with the wolf in the lead. Where were we going? The tiny path became less evident. Suddenly, I lost my footing and started to slide down the mountainside. I grasped a small tree and held on tightly. The ground beneath me was very far away. I looked up, and the wolf sat, staring at me with wise yellow eyes. The small tree did not hold, and the branch I was hanging onto broke. I slid down the side of the mountain and over the cliff into oblivion.

Everything was black, but I heard a familiar voice off in the distance. “Dani, Dani, my love! Wake up!” My eyes fluttered open.

“Eric!” I held him close. “You found me! I fell off a mountain. How did you find me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, looking at me like I was crazy. “You have only been gone a couple of hours. I came outside to get some wood, and you were lying in the snow.”

I was confused. My pack and my bow were slung as usual, and 2 rabbits hung from it.

“Come inside and get warm, Dani.” Eric helped me up and ushered me inside.

“Eric, I have been gone for over 10 days,” I explained.

“Darling, no, it’s just been an hour or two, he countered, pouring hot coffee for me. The black liquid and the smell of the coffee restored my strength.

I pushed back the hood of my coat and unhooked the wooden toggles.

“Dani! Your hair!” exclaimed Eric.

Startled by the urgency in his voice, I found my bronze mirror and peered into it. I gasped. My once black hair was now white as the snow outside.

“Eric, sit down and let me explain, “ I reached into my pocket and put the tiny raven on the table. I told him the whole unbelievable story. For years, we looked for the cabin deep in the forest and never found it. My hair never returned to its original color.

Every now and again, I hear stories from travelers and sometimes my neighbors about the hidden people, the old ones, who remain with us but are very rarely seen.

I am an old woman now. Eric passed on several years ago. I wanted to see the hidden people one more time. I braided up my white hair and donned my gear, pack, and bow. My quiver had sufficient arrows. It was winter again. I headed into the snow.